: Let's Ruin A Wedding.

I didn’t knock on the door, I pounded.

Roman’s door swung open a few seconds later, revealing him in nothing but a pair of blindingly white Calvin Klein boxer briefs and sleep-tousled hair.

I wasn't fazed. Roman usually sleeps naked.

“Nice boxers. Very... spiritual monk energy you have going on,” I said, breezing inside.

Roman rubbed his eyes, “It’s one in the morning. Did you set something on fire again?”

I kicked the door shut behind me, my heel finally giving up and snapping clean off. “Just my life.”

Roman sighed and knelt, without a word, helping me out of my shoes as usual.

“Roman, I did something horrible.”

Roman's face morphs into one of seriousness. He briskly walks to the windows, looks both ways then snaps them shut and proceeds to do that to all the windows.

“How bad is it? Do I need to hide a body or bail you out of jail? Be honest.” He said.

“My sister’s getting married,” I said, breathless.

“I'm lost.”

“To Dean Archer.”

Roman frowned. “Wait, the Dean Archer?”

I nod.

He paused. “Shit. Can she do that? Isn’t there a code against that?”

“She told me like she was announcing she made partner at Vogue. In freaking pastel.”

Roman pulled me into a hug. “I'm so sorry, love. I'll make popcorn and ice-cream. We'll watch Scream and you can call in sick at the office tomorrow.” He suggested.

I spun dramatically, dizzying myself. Roman reached to steady me instinctively, one hand at my waist.

“Savannah—careful. Vertigo?”

I collapsed to my knees in the middle of his kitchen, clapped my hands together like I was begging for a miracle.

“Please don’t kill me. I lied. I did a very, very bad thing.”

Roman squinted. “What did you do?”

“Say you forgive me first.”

“Savannah.”

“Say it, Roman. Or I’m never getting up.”

He groaned. “Fine. I forgive you. Now stand up before I have to carry you.”

I stood, dusted myself off, and blurted, “I told Chloe we’re engaged.”

Roman blinked. “You what?”

“She was smug and shiny and waving her invitation card like a disco ball, and I panicked. I told her we’ve been secretly in love this whole time.”

He rubbed a hand down his face, exhaled, and said, “You showed up here at midnight to ask me to be your fake fiancé because you lied to your entire family to one-up your sister?”

“Yes.”

He leaned against the counter. “I was supposed to be in Tuscany next week. There are hot models. Clubs. Parties. Cocktails. Poolside massages. Magnificent D cups … You know what happens in Tuscany.”

I batted my lashes. “You could still have models. Just... add me to the mix.”

He gave me a look. “Savannah.”

“Roman.”

“You couldn’t have said... like, Jake from accounting?”

“You’re the only one they know.”

“That’s fair.”

“The more I think about this, the more ridiculous it sounds,” he said, finally walking to the kitchen. “You fake-engaged me to your entire family, to outdo your sister who’s marrying your ex, and now we’re driving to New Hope to pull off this epic lie?”

I nodded.

“Okay, okay, counteroffer—I give you my next paycheck. Just the one. And maybe my soul.”

Roman snorted. “Love, your paycheck wouldn’t cover my shoelaces. I bought you a winter coat last Christmas that cost six times your rent.”

“And I love that coat,” I said sweetly. “See? I’m grateful. Please, Roman… I can't survive one week in New Hope without you by my side. I need you with me to fight my evil sister.”

He watched me, his eyes softer now. “You’re lucky you’re my best friend.”

“I love you.” I squealed.

Roman sighed. “When do we leave for New Hope?”

“In two weeks.”

He ran a hand through his messy hair. “Great. Let’s ruin a wedding.”

I practically threw myself into his arms, wrapping my arms and legs around him like a koala.

“Thank you! I knew you would agree!”

“Yeah, don't get too excited.”

I exhaled, finally allowing myself to sit down on his couch.

Roman glanced at me, then walked to the kitchen.

“I’m still making popcorn.”

“Huh?”

“And ice cream too. You need both. Preferably in the same bowl.”

I smiled, heart swelling. “You’re the best fake fiancé a girl could ask for.”

He returned minutes later with a giant bowl of buttered popcorn and another with vanilla ice cream topped with chocolate sauce and crushed Oreos.

He handed me a spoon and flopped down beside me.

“Come on,” he said, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “You’re not making me cuddle alone.”

I wrinkled my nose. “You’re in your underwear.”

“And yet, still the more clothed one in this friendship.”

I settled into his side, sighing. “You’re really going to do this for me?”

Roman kissed the top of my head. “I’ve been doing stuff for you since the day we met. This one’s just got better snacks.”

“Only if you ignore Chloe.”

“Do we have to kiss?” Roman asked.

The thought struck me like lightning, jerking me up in seconds.

“Oh shit!”

Roman smirked. “You really thought of everything but that?”

“How'd I forget that?”

“I’m sorry… Did you think engaged people do finger guns and fist bumps at dinner parties?” He joked.

“Well, I didn’t think we’d need a full kissing strategy! But now I’m imagining us standing awkwardly next to the cake like coworkers who accidentally RSVP’d yes to the same wedding.” I cringed at the image. “I suggest we practice, Roman.”

He shifts closer, slowly, like a lion circling an antelope.

“Practice?”

“Yes! This is a tongue-related crisis.”

Roman laughed.

“One trial kiss,” I insist. “A simulation. For science.”

“You want to kiss me... for science?”

“Don’t make it weird.”

Roman stops just in front of me.

There’s only an inch of space between us now, and suddenly the air is different—thicker, warmer, dangerous.

His gaze flicks to my mouth.

“Alright, Hart… Let’s practice.” He grins. “I must warn you, I'm sort of a pro at this.”

My breath catches as I lean in.

Closer.

My eyes locked on his. Roman’s lips part slightly—

Then I violently press my index finger and thumb down on my nose as if getting a bad whiff.

Roman blinks. His face is a mashup of confusion and shock.

“...Are you okay?”

I gasped dramatically, nose pinched.

“Is my cologne too strong?”

“Your ego. It’s choking me. I needed to make sure I could breathe before I died mid-kiss.” I cackled.

Roman just stares at me.

I released my nose, looking proud.

“You really thought this was the perfect opportunity for a prank?” Roman asked.

“I’m legally obligated to humble you once a week. Consider this your dose.”

He drags a hand down his face. “You’re the most chaotic fake fiancée on the planet.”

“You’re welcome.”

We were halfway through the movie when Roman picked up his phone and absently started scrolling.

I was mid-rant about how I'd have to sell my kidney and my car to look on theme judging from how Chloe overemphasised on the colour and fabric for the wedding when Roman suddenly went quiet.

Too quiet.

“What?” I asked, glancing up at him.

His expression was unreadable, then he turned the screen toward me.

It was I*******m… A DM request to be specific.

“Sav, why is your ex-boyfriend slash brother-in-law sending me a message request?”

Voicenote Incoming

: Voicenote incoming…

The Next Day…

Mom:

"Can't wait to see your fiancé, sweetie!!”

Aunt Carol:

"Omg!!! Chloe said he’s GORGEOUS."

Chloe:

“Eeeee! So happy for you, Sav!”

I rolled my eyes at the last two messages in the group chat. It's not as if Chloe knows what Roman looks like— except now that she's actively stalking him on social media.

Just like her husband-to-be.

The clatter of keyboards filled the office. Phones ringing left, right and center. The smell of caffeine and papers thick in the air.

I sat at my desk, trying to look busy while my phone wouldn’t stop vibrating. If this continues, I'm certain my boss, Terry Goldberg wouldn't hesitate when handing me my sack letter.

Another message popped in, my colleagues gave me the stink eye as I finally decided to turn it off.

New Hope was on fire. Word had spread like pollen in spring…

‘Savannah Hart was coming back with a man. For the second time in her life’.

With a fiancé this time. With Roman Blackwood.

My ex was getting married and I’d panicked myself into the lie of the century. And now there was no turning back.

A knock landed on my desk.

I blinked up.

An intern hovered with an elegant black box that looked heavy. The kind of box that whispered, there's wealth in here.

But on a more intense look, bombs are usually packaged this way too.

“Delivery for you.”

I stared. “Is it ticking?”

The intern shrugged. “If it is, it’s ticking in cursive.”

I eyed the box suspiciously. “Does it say who it's from?”

The intern shrugged. Again.

My colleagues began whispering and craning their necks to get a better look.

“Great. Thank you.”

The box wasn't heavy as I expected as I looked for an empty cubicle to lock myself in.

I set the box down in an empty stall and unwrapped the package that came with no card.

It was a silk dress. The type that clung onto your skin like a good scent.

This was not just any dress. This was THE dress.

A stunning emerald green, low necked, bare-backed showstopping dress with a decent thigh slit that announced the wearer's arrival without saying a word.

Wow

Beneath the dress lay the note I was looking for earlier in smooth, clean strokes of ink that smelled expensive.

“Figured if we’re going to sell this, you need to look like heartbreak in heels. You don't have to sell your car…

– R.”

My hands trembled as I read the note three times. Then I called him…

He picked up on the second ring. “You got it?”

My voice came out cracked. “Roman… This dress looks like it belongs on a red carpet. Not in New Hope.”

“Exactly.”

“I didn't even think you were listening to me last night.”

“I'm always listening to you.”

I swallowed. “How much did this cost?”

“Enough to ruin your sister’s day.”

I paused, then laughter slipped out of my mouth.

“You’re insane,” I whispered.

“You’re welcome,” he replied smoothly. “You’re not walking into that wedding looking like a cautionary tale. You’re walking in like a fucking event.”

My heart thudded. “I could kiss you.”

“You will,” Roman said, calm. Steady. “In front of your entire family. Repeatedly.”

“Oh, God… you make it sound worse when you say it that way.” I groaned.

“And your ex too.” Roman added.

“That, I'm excited for.” We laughed. “He's still texting you?”

“Surprisingly, yes. I get the vibe he suspects we're lying or one of us is using the other.”

“What?”

“The dude does know you though… on a much deeper level.” He winced.

“What do you mean?”

“He claims to be happy for us but he turns around and lets me know you used to tell him that you'd never date a guy like me. What's up with that?”

My palms became sweaty. “And what'd you say?”

“Me? I just told him how much fun he must be at therapy.”

I burst out into laughter in the middle of the bathroom stall. “I can imagine his face.”

“You know you could have picked Colin from Eastview Firm? Or Ethan from HR…” Roman suggested. “The more mysterious, the better.”

“They're both my exes. Everyone on that darn group chat knows when I broke up with both of them. Besides, Ethan only lasted long enough to serve one purpose.”

“Gross… don't remind me.”

I can imagine Roman wrinkling his face in disgust.

“Where are you anyways? You're not in your office, are you?”

“Nope. Considering my leave was squashed two hours after it began, I'm savouring what I can before I'm thrust into Hart family drama.”

I winced. “I'm sorry.”

He playfully brushed it off. “All fun is good fun, love. I'll try to enjoy New Hope.”

“I doubt that.”

“Baby,” Roman said, voice warm and low, “I’m about to be the realest fake man you’ve ever had.”

“I can't wait.”

“Well, I gotta go, there's a hot blonde winking right at me. I'm about to get lucky… I’ll text you later, love!” He hurriedly said before hanging up.

Typical Roman

I placed the dress against my body in front of the office mirror and took a selfie, typing across a message to attach to it before sending it to the bride of nightmares.

“Hey, Chlo, just checking—this the exact green you wanted, right? I know how you get about shades.”

I pressed send and breathed out as the three dots danced across the screen.

Suddenly… it disappeared.

A mic icon appeared in its place…

Voicenote incoming…

I hesitated for a whole freaking hour, then hit play.

Nothing good ever happens when Chloe sends voice notes.

“Sav, I think that dress is a little too low-cut. It looks like you’re… seeking attention?

You’re going to look like you’re trying to upstage me, Savannah. Not like that's even possible, but then… I just had to be honest.

That color’s too… dramatic. I didn't know it'd be this prominent when I imagined it. But I'll take that fault.

And honestly, sis, that dress looks too good for you. And what's with that slit? Would your pride survive if your vertigo knocks you around a little bit? Well, you're one tough old cookie, Sav.”

Pause.

“How did you even afford that dress? Never mind. I don't want to know the gory details. Gotta go! Love you, sis!”

My hands trembled. My breathing turned erratic.

How dare that little witch.

Oh, Chloe, this isn't a wedding anymore, this is war.

And may the best groom win.

Trip To New Hope

: Trip To New Hope

Two Weeks Later…

“You’re wearing my hoodie.” Roman stated. “When did you steal that one?”

“I didn't steal, I borrowed. Those are two different things.” I muttered, buckling in, “if I die on this trip, tell everyone I looked cute and smelled amazing.”

“Will do. You sure you got everything?” He asked as he settled into the driver seat.

“Anxiety? Check. Emergency snacks? Check. A dress that my sister says is ‘too good for me’? Triple check.” I counted off my fingers.

“That was a low blow, by the way. I can't believe she said all that over a dress. You okay?”

“I'll survive. She's said much worse to me.”

“And the most important? Did you get it?” Roman started his sleek, black Aston Martin. His sunglasses perched perfectly atop his hair.

I grinned wickedly. “You bet.”

Roman laughed as he pulled away from the curb. “Remind me never to mess with you, Sav.”

“Or buy you a wedding gift.” I added.

“No need to worry about that. I'm never getting married. Ever.” He emphasised.

I rolled my eyes. “Everyone says that. Then boom, suddenly they're happily married with twenty kids and a dozen dogs.”

He scoffed. “Cute picture. But not for me.”

I frowned. I've known Roman for five years and this is the first time he's ever spoken about this.

“Why?”

“Some things just aren't meant for some people. Sav, look at me, do I look like the type of guy that fits into that picture?” He asked with one hand on the steering.

I took a good look at him. From his green eyes to his Adam's apple down to his ivory coloured cashmere sweater and black pants. “Sure.”

He shook his head. “I don't think so. I like my life as it is.”

“If you're anti-marriage, why are you going with me to New Hope?”

He glanced at me before turning his attention back to the road. “Who knows? Maybe it's the spirit of adventure. Maybe for experience? Or just because I'd do anything for you.”

I let that sink. “Why don't you wanna get married? I know I do want to settle down some day when I'm older.” I placed a hand on my chest.

“You're turning thirty, Savannah.” He cackled.

“I can still say when I'm older. There's no rule that prevents thirty-year olds from saying it.” I argued. “Besides, you never stated the reason why you swore off marriage.”

“Let's not dig up dead bodies, love.”

I playfully glared at him. “I'm still gonna get that story out of you, one way or another.”

“Till then, love.” Roman smiled.

An hour into the drive, the GPS announced: "Continue on I-95 North for 67 miles."

I looked at him, head tilted. “Okay. It’s time.”

“For?”

I turned dramatically in my seat, pulling out my phone.

“The road trip playlist. It’s a sacred ritual. First song sets the tone.”

Roman arched an eyebrow.

“If you play Taylor Swift, I’m driving us into a river.”

I gasped.

“You take that back.”

“You take that playlist back.”

We wrestled over my phone like children, with Roman not wanting to give it up. At one point, I climbed halfway into his lap trying to pry it back, giggling and shrieking.

“I will end you, Blackwood!” I swore.

“You’re gonna get us pulled over.”

Eventually, I gave up, breathless and flushed.

He handed the phone back with a smirk.

“Fine. Play your heartbreak anthems.”

“Damn right I will.”

I queued up a dramatic song about betrayal and exes. We listened in silence for a beat.

Then I said, softly, “Do you think they’ll believe us?”

Roman didn’t answer right away.

Then he said, “I think if we’re not careful… we might start believing it ourselves.”

We looked at each other…

Then burst into laughter.

“You almost got me.” I giggled.

~~~~~~~~~

We've been driving for two hours. Conversation flowed like it always did with Roman—effortless, familiar, full of sharp banter and long silences that never felt awkward.

“You sure you want to do this?” I asked as we passed the ‘Welcome to New Hope’ sign. “There’s still time to turn around. Fake a car fire. Say you got food poisoning. Or I can say I had a pregnancy scare.”

“I canceled a sexy vacation for this,” he said. “I’m not half-assing it, Sav.”

“Right. Because this is a performance.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just gave me that unreadable look again… the one that made me feel seen in ways I wasn’t ready for.

“This isn’t just a performance, Sav,” he said finally. “It’s the start of a battle.”

I nodded. “They're not gonna know what hit them.”

The moment we crossed into New Hope, my stomach dropped. The group chat was still buzzing.

I looked out the window to places I used to know.

People I used to know.

The houses grew more familiar, more homey, and more weaponized by nostalgia and memories I thought I'd successfully kept buried.

By the time Roman turned into the gravel driveway of my childhood home, my hands were sweating.

Can I really pull this off for one week?

“Sav? You okay?” He reached over to place his free hand on my thigh.

I smiled. “Of course. I just got sucked into the music.”

We both turned to the house. Me, with a glum expression. Him, with surprise.

“Sav, are you sure we're at the right house?”

I gulped. “Yes.”

The Hart family home was nestled at the end of a winding, tree-lined driveway.

A timeless monument made of stone, with ivy creeping along the edges like whispers of old secrets.

Two tall brick chimneys crowned the sharply gabled roof, hinting at roaring fires that warm the silk-draped drawing rooms. The tall, amber-lit windows that still glow like honey at dusk, spilling golden light across the manicured hedges that flank the front entrance with a soft arch that cradles the wooden double doors, facing the wraparound porch with wrought-iron lanterns and polished oak railings

And finally, to the left stood a blooming cherry tree bush with pink petals against the stone like a blush that won’t fade, no matter how many winters come and go.

“Your house is quite bigger than I imagined.”

“I forgot to mention my dad is a retired federal judge.” I ran my sweaty palms over my black joggers.

“You skipped the part where you're supposed to let me know the Harts live in a fortress.”

Nevertheless, Roman pulled into the gravel driveway like he owned the place.

The welcoming committee was already waiting at the front entrance.

My mom. My older sister, Alyssa. My aunties. My cousin, Lizzie, from Florida. My little niece. Chloe in head-to-toe white.

And worst of all— Dean fucking Archer.

What The Hell, Savannah!